


The Promise

by plague of insomnia (chiealeman)



Series: Drabbles [3]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Don’t copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Human Sebastian Michaelis, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-29 18:49:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20087041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiealeman/pseuds/plague%20of%20insomnia
Summary: Bard arrives home to find his husband drowning in the toxic miasma of his past, so he reassures and comforts Sebastian, reaffirming an old promise.A little drabble about Bard coming home and comforting his husband, Sebastian, set in Houston but not the same AU as Where Demons Hide.





	The Promise

Bard stared at his reflection in his rearview mirror and snagged a towel he kept in the passenger’s seat, using it to wipe the soot off his face. “Why does the boss blame me every time there’s a kitchen fire? I wasn’t even near that station,” he grumbled to himself before sighing heavily. He’d been told to take tomorrow off—without pay, of course—money they couldn’t afford to lose, but Will seemed to have a beef with Bard. The manager did everything by the books, would probably literally die if he even _ accidentally _skirted or bent a rule, and took issue with Bard’s “laissez faire” way of doing things. They were exact opposites: Bard saw rules as a challenge; nothing was more satisfying than butting heads along that wall of “no,” totally bending it out of shape without technically breaking it.

He killed the engine, grabbed his Glock from the console and stepped out of the car into the early-morning Houston humidity. No point in being angry about it. Bard loved everyone in that restaurant except Will, he was learning a lot under Executive Chef Agni—who wasn’t a total ass like most people with that title and still loved cooking and food—and they actually paid benefits for him _ and _ his partner, which was a rarity in the industry.

Dawn was still a couple hours off as he walked from the porte-cochere to the side door of the humble Heights home he shared with Sebastian. He unlocked it, the _beep_ of the alarm catching him off guard, but only for a moment as he disarmed it with a few quick keystrokes of their passcode. He slipped the holstered gun in his pocket, the house still, nothing but the groan of old floorboards beneath his feet as he crossed through the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge.

After hours in front of a commercial stove, finishing hundreds of dishes, he was sweaty and tired. He chugged the beer in a few swallows, then jogged up the steps toward their bedroom, looking forward to a quick shower before crashing for the day.

As he went, he unbuttoned his dirty chef’s coat, losing it entirely by the time he’d reached the landing, tugging his undershirt off next, balling them both up to dump in the hamper. The bedroom was quiet, although it did smell strongly of cigarettes, as if Sebastian had been smoking heavily in it recently. The bed was empty, although the sheets were tangled, almost as if they were a living beast that had ensnared Sebastian, who’d only barely escaped their grasp. He frowned. Dumped his shirts and walked carefully toward the bathroom.

“Seb?” His heartbeat sped although he was outwardly calm. After two tours in the Middle East it took a lot more than not knowing where his husband was to rattle him. “Seb?”

The light above the sink was on, a glass beside it half full of an amber liquid, cigarette butts floating in it and gathered at the bottom like some kind of twisted take on a fish bowl.

Bard scratched the back of his neck, pausing to sniff the glass: the faint smoky, oaky scent of whisky just barely snuck through the overpowering smell of ash. It actually made Bard crave a shot and a smoke, but if Sebastian was drinking and smoking more than he did, it meant tonight had been_ bad _. “Seb? The house is secure. I checked. You’re safe.”

Still no answer as he headed to their closet, the space just barely big enough the realtor could describe it as a “walk in.” He hesitantly pulled the partly open door the rest of the way, not surprised when he saw a form huddled in the corner, partly shielded by shirts. Sebastian, hugging his knees, the whites of his eyes reddened, his cheeks tear-stained, shaking.

Bard closed his eyes for a moment, just enough to be considered too long for a blink, calming his own emotions. “It’s Bard, Seb,” he said in a soft voice, sinking down to his knees so he wasn’t looming over the other man. “You’re safe. I promise.”

Sebastian stared at him with glassy eyes, not saying anything, chin trembling.

Bard inched closer, carefully, slowly, doing his best to not appear threatening.

“Bard,” Seb said in a choked voice, finally releasing an arm and holding it out toward his husband.

“Yeah, it’s me. You’re OK. You’re safe.” Bard wrapped Sebastian in a tight, supportive embrace, kissing his temple. “Did something happen?”

Sebastian leaned into the blond’s hold, swallowing thickly. “I couldn’t sleep, so I tried to work. You know that ghost writing gig I got? And suddenly I felt like something was watching me from the window. . . . I don’t really remember what happened after that; I just ended up here.” 

Bard felt rage building below the surface as he squeezed Sebastian tight and kissed his head again. He smelled like cigarettes, and beneath that, like sandalwood and cloves, and the sweet scent that was uniquely his, like the aroma of a favorite home-cooked meal, comforting and reassuring. At least his husband was tolerating his touch. When they’d first gotten to know one another, even the most casual physical contact freaked Sebastian out. It hadn’t been easy, and several of Bard’s friends had advised him to steer well clear of someone so broken, but he had seen something in Sebastian from their very first meeting, a spark in those unique mahogany eyes that had drawn him in. He had his own demons from his time as a marine, and he was no quitter. Sebastian had been trapped in a seemingly bottomless well, engulfed by the toxic miasma of his past, desperately stretching toward the surface, toward the light, toward anyone willing to risk being absorbed by the darkness to reach in and pull him out.

And Bard had. Until a couple months ago, when Sebastian’s lawyer called to tell him his uncle was being released after fifteen years in prison. And Sebastian’s carefully reconstructed life had shattered in an instant.

Bard pressed Sebastian’s head to his chest, holding it there as if to allow his husband to feel the thrum of his heartbeat, as if to remind Sebastian that he was real, that he was here, that he would protect them both. “He’s not allowed anywhere near you. And you’re not a child anymore. You’re not helpless. And you’re not alone.”

Sebastian pulled away so he could meet Bard’s gaze, smiling faintly, although tears clung to his long eyelashes. He planted a chaste, salty kiss on his husband’s lips, and whispered a “thank you” so quiet Bard wasn’t entirely sure if he’d imagined it.

“Let’s go to bed.” 

“Shower?” Sebastian’s lids were heavy, the shadows under his eyes obvious even in the low light of the closet.

“Later. Not like you’ve never seen me sweaty,” Bard teased, wiggling his eyebrows. “You’re more important.”

Sebastian let out a relieved sigh and nodded.

Bard’s legs were half asleep as he rose clumsily, making Sebastian let out a short chuckle. But the sound was heaven; if he could laugh, it meant the void hadn’t swallowed him completely. “My prince,” the blond said with a cheeky grin and a fake bow, offering his hand to help Sebastian to his feet.

He didn’t laugh again, but he did smile, sweet and smitten, his tears completely dried as he accepted the help, gasping when Bard suddenly swept him up into a bridal carry, long legs dangling down over a beefy tattooed forearm. “I can walk.”

“I know,” Bard replied as he exited the confines of the closet toward the solace of their bedroom. “I love you,” he said just before he set Sebastian down on the mattress.

“I love you,” Sebastian echoed, throwing the sheets aside and scooting over to make room.

Bard turned on the lamp that rested on his nightstand so the room wouldn’t be totally dark. Even if the sun would be rising soon, he knew it would help keep his husband relaxed and reassured. He set his gun on the surface, slipped off his shoes and pants, and climbed in.

Sebastian was trembling again, his breathing elevated, watching Bard warily.

“I’m off tomorrow, so you have me all day and night, OK?” he said as he wrapped his husband in his arms again. 

Sebastian pressed his head against Bard’s chest as if he were trying to meld them as one, letting loose a long, drawn-out sigh. “What’dyou do this time,” he mumbled, his breathing beginning to even out.

Bard held Sebastian, rubbing the other’s back in soft, soothing circles, rolling his eyes and scoffing. “Why does everyone assume I’m to blame?”

Relaxing further, the tall man began to grow heavy against Bard. “Tell me again, please?”

Bard wrapped a leg around one of Sebastian’s, as if his arms weren’t enough to keep his husband secure. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not today, not ever. I will protect you. I _ promise _.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, please leave kudos and share/reblog/send me asks! You can find me on tumblr @plague-of-insomnia
> 
> If you really enjoyed this and want to see more Sebbard content, please comment and let me know!
> 
> I love feedback, whether it’s short or long comments, constructive criticism, telling me what you liked most, etc., etc.!
> 
> I try to reply to comments 💕.
> 
> I wrote this bc I was feeling down and needed a little pick-me-up. I hope it helped you smile a little too.


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